Wednesday 2 January 2013

Dohard or Dohome

First day's of anything have never really been my strength, perhaps I am a slow starter. At the age of 5 my first day of school resulted in being taken next door to the local kindergarten as teachers assumed I had escaped through the fence. I believe this set the benchmark for many more first days to come and today was no exception.

I woke early, did an array of push ups and sit ups then skulked away from the mirror in the knowledge I've been hitting the hotel buffet too hard. My ride to work had been organised previously by my employer and I had been emailed all the appropriate timetables and certification - like that means anything. A quick call did indeed indicate that the transportation department had no knowledge of me or my certification. So began a morning of language difficulties and bureaucracy that saw me be no less than two hours late on my first day.

Finding quality intel when you don't speak the language is tricky, flambouyant pointing can get you from A to B, but it becomes a case of snakes and ladders after that.

After finally getting all my paperwork done and negotiating security, much of my day was spent getting up to speed with the technology and work flows in place. Industry jargon can be about as easy as the local language to decipher and I managed to make several pages of notes.. which I can no longer make heads of tails of. Spending the day drawing pictures of cats would have been about as useful.

It didn't help that brain fade kicked in about halfway through the day as jet lag once again took hold. I've heard people talk about jet lag before and always thought they were pussies having done relentless odd hours myself for many years. I take that all back. Jet lag is a dick.

Any curiosity about what I could expect in the middle east was quickly silenced in the afternoon with images of a man crying holding an arm attached to a head by a bit of neck, a man burning motionless on a motorcycle and another person's burnt remains collapsing in a pile of ash as the head simply disintegrated. Harrowing stuff, but not nearly as bad as the cafeteria.

I rate the cafeteria as one of the worst places I can ever find myself, it feels like 4th form all over again as people syphon off into their little groups, glaring at each other over half eaten sandwiches. Not so strangely for my first day, I sat alone, Mirinda in one hand, Twix in the other wondering how it was I came to be in this position once again. Simultaneously a pariah and the centre of attention. About as fun as being stabbed.

Weary after a long day of watching every body else do all the work, I suddenly realised I had no idea how I'd be getting home. Not that I knew were home was. The sort of information which is helpful at night time in a strange city where nobody speaks your language. The solution? Some foreign guy calls his friend who agrees to relocate me for money. I really can't complain as I am now in my bed. So despite blacking out whatever transpired, I can only assume it all worked out for the best.

It's rather early to be going to bed, but I am knackered and the Black Caps were bowled out for 45 today and I want to black that out too. Day two at my new job will see me stepping up my involvement in the day to day processes of the company and preparing myself for day three when they will undoubtedly make me upper management.

No comments:

Post a Comment